


Titanfall: The Titan Wars

by RobbStarkReborn



Category: Titanfall
Genre: F/M, Titan Wars, Titanfall - Freeform, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobbStarkReborn/pseuds/RobbStarkReborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A non-canon account of the Titan Wars from the perspective of a pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Colossus

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by many hours spent playing Titanfall, the best game currently on the market. Buy it. Please read my AGOT fics as well.

**1900 Hours, aboard the IMS _Colossus_ , Yuma System**

Hi.

My name is Robert. Robert Hammond. You know, the family that runs the whole Frontier? Yep, that's us. My family started with my great-grandfather, an Earthling with cash in his pocket and a gleam in his eye who set out to build a fortune in mining out on the galactic frontier, thanks to faster-than-light travel. His son, my grandfather, expanded that business to an unprecedented height, employed an army and a navy to protect our interests, and made our family both rich and made us the titans of the industry. How appropriate, then, that my father, Dr. Joseph Hammond, came up with the idea for the Titans. He originally designed them for Sol System nations to use in war, but when war broke out on the frontier, we put them to use fighting for us.

A Titan is a massive, twenty-foot tall mechanical beast, shaped like a human, equipped with various tactical systems and heavy weaponry. There are three variants of Titans: the Atlas, a compromise between speed and power; the Ogre, a slow-moving but hard-hitting tank; and the Stryder, small, nimble, yet fragile.

I've always been a genius. I know how conceited that sounds, but it's true. My brother and sister are smart, but I'm the smartest in the family and always have been. I grew up on Earth, among the galactic elite, but everybody knows that despite our vast wealth, we Hammonds aren't spoiled, or treated like living gods by our family. We're raised no differently from any normal kids, and we're raised right. I've never considered myself to be handsome, but then again, many have called me handsome. I'm tall, slim, I have curly brown hair that falls into my eyes, sharp green eyes, and good teeth. I tend to be quiet, with only expressionless distaste for those I don't call friend, but around my friends I am warm and boisterous. Women tend to like me, although I honestly can't imagine why.

When war broke out on the frontier between the IMC, or Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation, my family's company, and the Frontier Militia, an umbrella for a hodge-podge of disgruntled homesteaders, mercenaries, pirates, and terrorists, I knew what I had to do for our family.

When I told my father I wanted to join the IMC Pilot Corps, he was furious. A Hammond shouldn't waste his time getting shot at, he said, but I told him that that was the exact attitude that the Militia used to fan the flames, to make us seem like the bad guys. But if the heir to the company, to the empire, were to fight for the IMC, we would be not only more relatable but also more respectable, especially among our own soldiers. And it was a way for me to contribute actively towards the future of both our family and business.

I enlisted anonymously, to avoid the ass-kissing that would have accompanied being their employer's son and their future boss. I wanted to be me, not the heir to the IMC.

Now my name is Robert Allen, just some Earthling with a lot of talent.

And I am a pilot of Titans.

"Rob!"

Patrick's voice shook me out of my reverie. Standing in the doorframe of my cabin was my best friend, just as much a sibling to me as my own back on Earth were. Our families went way back, to our grandparent's time. His grandfather was a colonial governor who opened his planet up to our drills, and our grandfathers became fast friends. The planet? It's name is Demeter, and these days it's one of the largest IMC refueling depots, the link between the core and the frontier, as well as the home of CENTCOM and FLEETCOM. It was absolutely vital, and it had to have loyal administrators, so Patrick's family is still running the show there. He was a quiet guy, brilliantly smart like myself, but quick to sense a slight, real or perceived.

"Yeah, what? Is something going on?" "No," he replied, "but I asked you if you were coming to dinner."

"Nope," I lied, "I have to recalibrate my weapons, clean my armor, you know how it is.." After he said goodbye, I returned to my thoughts. I did actually have to recalibrate my weapons, but the real reason I was busy tonight was because I was having a girl over. The Pilot Corps is big, certainly not as big as an infantry battalion, but it was still of significant size. It had to be, with so many planets, each with so many different threats, occupying our military. You could have intimate relationships with other pilots, but it had to remain private, and if it got in the way of the purpose of the Corps then action would be taken. One particular pilot would be occupying my thoughts tonight, though.

Or rather, two pilots.

The twins were everybody's favorite friends, with their beauty, blond hair, charisma, and proficiency as pilots. But I was their favorite, and they were my constant companions. Many people couldn't tell them apart, but I could, because they were quite different, inside and out. Rachel was a bit on the short side, with curly strawberry-blond hair, freckles, blue eyes, liked to wear bright colors when out of uniform, and was sweet and flirty. Rebecca was taller and more serious, but every bit as beautiful. She had long sandy-blond hair, preferred darker colors, was more resigned, but also more level-headed. Despite their differences, they were smarter than nearly everyone in any given room, and that says much, especially in a program that only accepted those with uniquely gifted minds.

Were we together? Oh, for sure, but it was more like them sharing me than me sharing them.

I wanted to pass time until they came over, so I set to work on recalibrating my weapon of choice: The Longbow-DMR, a semi-automatic hybrid between the power and range of a sniper rifle and the ease and maneuverability of a standard marksman's rifle. It could kill a pilot at ranges up to 1000 yards. Next to it lay the Hammond P2011, my sidearm of choice. A simple 9mm pistol, yet it was powerful, and had a match trigger which allowed for firing very rapidly. And beside that sat my Anti-Titan weapon, the Sidewinder AT-SMR, a small rocket launcher, firing micro-missiles with shaped charges.

Just as I finished, I heard a rap on the door of my cabin, followed by a girly giggle. I got up from my chair and opened the door. Rachel and Rebecca stood there, grinning. They were both in uniform, as we were supposed to be, when on board a starship. I greeted them with a simple, "Ladies." and with that I ushered them inside. Rachel went straight to my fridge to get drinks for us all, while Rebecca went and fiddled with my weapons. "Looking good, Rob. You just clean them?" she inquired.

"Yes, I did."

"I could do it for you, you know. I do a better job. And faster, I bet."

"I wouldn't let her, if I were you." said Rachel as she walked over, drinks in hand. "She'd make you pay her, when you could do it yourself, for free. They aren't that bad, anyway." If Rebecca had an opinion, Rachel either shared it or mocked it mercilessly.

An hour or so later, when we were all quite drunk on each other and the alcohol before us, we settled into our usual evening together. Rachel straddled my lap while Rebecca sat beside me and they took turns kissing me, giggling constantly. Rachel unbuttoned her uniform, spilling her pale breasts into the cool air of the cabin. Rebecca, not one to be outdone, followed suit and guided my hand to her pink nipples.

Soon we were utterly naked, falling into my bed, kissing, and caressing as we went. I took Rachel on her hands and knees while I fondled her breasts, kissing Rebecca all the while. I kept thrusting, harder and deeper each time, until we both reached our climaxes with near-explosive force, spending myself inside her, while Rachel shuddered and moaned below me. I pulled out and soon I was pushing into Rebecca, her nails raking down my back, as I thrusted harder and harder, while Rebecca mewled with pleasure at each thrust. It wasn't long before I again came, filling her, as she joined me in orgasm. We collapsed onto the bed, panting, and sleep soon took us. 

 


	2. Fracture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up on a seismically unstable world.

**0730 Hours, aboard the IMS _Colossus_ , in orbit over IMC planet Marcellus, Yuma System**

The gentle touch of a hand tracing lines on my chest awoke me. As I opened my eyes, I saw Rachel fast asleep to my left, curled around my arm, and Rebecca on my right, unashamed of her nudity, exploring my battle scars. "Where did you get this one?" she asked, gesturing to a scar just above my hip. "Shrapnel from a grenade, during a raid on Freeport." I replied groggily. "It looks deep.. Must have hurt. Want breakfast?" purred Rebecca.

After dressing, we started breakfast. Saturday, I thought dimly.

Just as we finished making our food, sirens wailed, and a metallic voice belonging to Spyglass, the IMC's only AI in the Frontier came on the intercom. "Attention all Pilots. Prepare for combat. Report to the deployment bay at 0745 hours for briefing by Vice Admiral Graves." announced the harsh, steely voice of the AI. Rachel and Rebecca rushed off to suit up, kissing me goodbye as they left. I pulled on my own armor, which was made of lightweight titanium weave. My armor was designed specifically for snipers like myself, with loads of integrated sensors, rangefinders, navigational systems, cloaking devices, as well as a facemask with the latest heads-up-display. It had a hood which went over the facemask, which looked a lot like ancient gas masks, but with five glowing discs to function as both eyes and scanners. I knew I looked intimidating, which was good. I put my data-knife in its sheath, attached my booster pack, activated my various systems, holstered my pistol, slung my Longbow and Sidewinder over my back, and rushed out the door. Pilots aplenty filled the corridors of the ship, which truly earned it's name.

Through the transparent windows of the ship, I could see Marcellus below us, the planet we would soon be on. Marcellus had been a resort planet for the galactic elite half a century ago, but when the oh-so-precious fuel that gave the frontier its worth was discovered, all the residents of the planet were evicted and the world turned over to aggressive fracking. The result of fifty years of fracking was a seismically unstable environment, with great cracks and chasms dividing the planet. The whole world is like a giant example of plate tectonics, and with massive dust storms to only make things more difficult.

All around our own ship, which was the IMC flagship, were formations of carriers, as well as transports, and the great refueling ship  _Annapolis_.

Patrick joined me as I rushed down the corridor towards the hangar. "Finally, some action! We've been bored for a month, it's about time we got something done."

I nodded in agreement. We had been jumping all around the Frontier, denying the 1st Militia fleet any fuel. They were going to try to refuel here on Marcellus. It was risky, but if they were fast enough, they could do it, so we had to be faster.

When we reached the hangar, where every pilot on board was assembling, all 250 of us, and I saw on my HUD that it was 0745. The hangar was massive, and held not only Hornet-Class starfighters whose design lived up to their name, but also bombers, transports, dropships, and the massive racks of hundreds of Titans. Just then, Vice Admiral Marcus Graves, Commander-in-chief of Frontier Command, stepped onto a platform and called us to attention. We all saluted, then he proceeded to explain our mission to us. We would be dropping in our Titans, he said, then we would defend the mining facilities while the fleet engaged the Militia starships in low orbit and above the refueling stations groundside. We were to hold the facilities at any cost, and the Militia would try to take them at any cost. With that he ordered us to our Titans to prepare for titanfall. I briefly saw Rachel and Rebecca get lifted into their Titans before I reached mine. We were in the same squad, along with several other pilots, and I was the squad leader.

My Titan was an Ogre, a great brute built for dishing and taking loads of damage. Equipped with a 40mm cannon, a shoulder-mounted rocket pod, and electric smoke canisters, I was a potent force. Rachel favored the Ogre as well, hefting a massive plasma railgun, which fired supercharged shells that would disintegrate a pilot in the blink of an eye. Rebecca, however, used the Atlas, wielding the XO-16 Chaingun with ease and finesse like one would a rifle. My titan, upon my approach, gently picked me up in it's massive hand and lifted me into it's cockpit, closing the hatch behind me. 

 _AI OFFLINE. PILOT MODE ENGAGED._ announced the Titan's internal computer in a soothing, yet robotic female voice.

_PREPARE FOR EJECTION-DROP SEQUENCE IN THREE, TWO, ONE, MARK._

The hangar was instantly left behind with a loud crash as 250 Titans plunged through space in different directions, to this section of the planet or another, as well as a multitude of dropships carrying Spectres, robotic infantry. Above us, the yawning maw of the gargantuan hangar held more Titans to be dropped in, if necessary. Far below us, in the swirling dust storms of the upper atmosphere, I could see the Militia fleet moving towards their various objectives.

All the Titans and dropships alike were relegated to small blue blurs of light as they were warped to their destinations.

**0755 Hours, Planet Marcellus, Yuma System**

I went from upper orbit to a matter of feet above the ground in less than a second, and our Titans slammed into the ground. "All right everyone, let's spread out and take defensive positions, the rebels will be here any minute." I ordered, and we moved out, leaving dust and massive footprints in our wake.

In the distance, there were colossal drills that made our Titans seem like microbes and overshadowed even the largest of carriers. They consistently slammed into the ground, rose, extracted, slammed into the ground, and so brought wealth to my family and the galaxy. This world, and others like it, were the sources of galactic industry. Everytime the drills rose up, massive chunks of earth would slide up with them, grinding together, smashing against each other, and on the chunks ruined buildings, cars, homes, and streets could be seen. Massive cliffs created by the drilling surrounded the field where we had landed, and a few hundred feet to our left was a precipice that was testament to the power of modern engineering. The very planet we stood on moved, slid, vibrated, rose, and fell, like some giant machine made of earth, crafted by God himself. There were smaller drills scattered around, also hammering away, with some around us and others far off.   

I could see the Militia dropships approaching, and distantly I could see Titans falling from Militia starships in low orbit. At that distance warpfall was unnecessary and they could simply be dropped into battle. "All right, hit those dropships, we can bring a lot of their guys down with 'em."

Rachel's Titan opened fire from behind me, sending a plasma bolt shrieking through the air as it tore into the cockpit, frying the pilots and sending it crashing to the ground in a great fireball. "Yeah! Nice shot, Rach." I could now see Militia pilots and grunts moving through buildings in the distance, and soon a pair of Titans crested the ridge directly in front of us. "Open fire! Bring 'em down!" I shouted. One, a Stryder, fired a salvo of rockets, but one of my squadmates activated his vortex shield, catching and holding the rockets in stasis for a moment before sending them flying back at the Titan who fired them, taking the missiles right in the cockpit, destroying it instantly in a violent burst of fire and shrapnel. Stryders were fast but weak, they didn't even have external shields, which was why I didn't use one. I preferred to use my Ogre for it's strength, despite it's slow speed.

I saw the other's energy shield falter under the sustained fire of Rebecca's chaingun, while I pelted it with my 40mm. When it's shield went down, it took a 40mm shot in the left arm, tearing it off, and forcing the pilot to retreat behind the hill. A one-armed titan certainly is useless, I thought.

Spyglass suddenly appeared on a small screen in the corner of my HUD. "Attention pilots. I have marked a destination on your map. Relocate your squad to this location immediately." and with that the small screen blinked off.

"All right, you heard the AI, let's move out." We headed down the street, passing under the shadow of huge automated drills that were utterly ignorant of the war raging for control of them, and instead continued on doing the only thing that they had ever done.

Business waits for no man, I thought dully.

Further down the street, I could see several Spectres, the robotic infantry of the IMC, firing away at a large number of Militia grunts charging over a hill, trying to overwhelm them in waves. My squad of Titans charged in, crushing grunts under our massive metal feet as we went. I grabbed a grunt with my TItan's gigantic hand and threw him against a wall like a ragdoll, splitting him open on impact, while beside me I could see Rachel's Titan punching grunts into bloody paste. I fired my 40mm, sending a pair of grunts flying like bowling pins, and then I fired again, this time ripping a grunt in half after sending the shot straight through him.

 _WARNING. MULTIPLE THREATS ATTACKING._ blared my internal computer, so I turned to see three Titans cresting the hill, while another came through a side alley onto the street we were on.

"Engage them! Take 'em down!" I ordered.

I hammered away at an Atlas with my 40mm, and once it's energy shield had been worn away I hit it with a salvo of missiles, not critically damaging it, but enough to end it quickly. I fired the 40mm again, then punched it with my Titan's colossal fist, shattering armor, electronics, and most likely the pilot's legs. At this point the enemy titan was doomed, but I reached forward, ripped off the hatch with one hand, pulled out the pilot with the other, a girl, I realized, and then I threw her against the ground like someone would spike a ball, killing her instantly, and staining the ground red.

I turned my Titan, having taken down my opponent, and saw Rachel in her Ogre rip off the arms of an Atlas, tear open it's cockpit, and proceed to crush the pilot in her massive metal fist. Blisk, one of my squad members, a South African mercenary, was wrestling with an Ogre in his Atlas in the shadow of one of the great drills. The Ogre's pilot swung it's colossal metal fist wildly, trying to rid itself of this foe.

One swing slammed into the underside of Blisk's cockpit. "My leg! Oh God, my leg, my leg, bring it down, save me!" squealed Blisk in his South African accent. I ran over and grabbed the Ogre from behind and pinned it while he ripped it open, but before he could kill the pilot, the pilot ejected, detonating his Titan right in our faces. My shield absorbed the impact, but Blisk's Titan didn't look great. "My leg, sir, it's done for. My knee's crushed against my chest and my shin's shattered." He winced audibly. "You'll make it, Blisk, hang in there. We're almost done." I responded. But the harsh voice of my internal computer returned my attention to myself.

_HOSTILE PILOT ONBOARD. RECOMMEND DISEMBARK AND ENGAGE THE THREAT MANUALLY._

Damn, I thought, the guy who just escaped us landed back on top of my titan, and now he would try to damage the insides with his weapons to bring me down. All pilot's boots are specially designed to absorb any impact, so we can jump from absurd heights and land softly. Even so, falling from any great height still elicited some baser instinct and caused me to panic. I opened the hatch, and jumped out into the warm sunlight. Marcellus was a mild and temperate planet, it seemed, for all it's seismic horror.

I unholstered my P2011 pistol, and fired eight shots in quick succession, ripping through the pilot's armor, killing him. My titan, now on AI mode, turned to face another Titan being engaged by my squad. I ran up to my Titan, grabbed hold of the metal bar between the legs of the Titan, and slung myself upwards only to be picked up by my Titan's colossal hand and lifted into the cockpit, as the hatch closed behind me, all in one fluid motion.

_AI OFFLINE. PILOT MODE ENGAGED._

My screen came online and I could see the last enemy Titan, a Stryder, go down under a salvo of rockets from one of our Titans. "Well done, everybody. Did we lose anyone?"

"We lost Marcel. He took an arc cannon to the cockpit and exploded." replied Rebecca.

I silently cursed my luck. The Frenchman had been one of my better squadmates. "Damn shame. Blisk's leg got crushed, he'll be out for while."  I responded. In the distance, the 1st Militia Fleet was soaring over the shifting and shaking ruins of the only major city on Marcellus.

I could see the Militia flagship, the  _Red Eye_ , taking hits from a pair of IMC carriers. Suddenly a large number of stationary turrets that had previously been offline activated and opened fire on the Militia fleet, but the sound of their gunfire was quickly overshadowed by the deafening roar of an IMC supercarrier flying over us. The IMS  _Destiny_ , I noted, one of only two in the main Frontier fleet. It's many hundreds of guns opened fire, damaging the Red Eye, sending it crashing into the ruins of the city, toppling skyscrapers and gushing flames. The remaining Militia fleet wisely began moving away, some going down from shots fired by the IMC fleet, now in full force above us. I could hear cheering over the radio, both from my squad and from command.

Spyglass' robotic voice snapped me back to reality. "Attention pilots. The insurgents are routed. They are attempting to evacuate at this location. Do  _not_  allow them to escape."

A dropship could be seen flying in, under the radar of the carriers, to evac any remaining Militia on the ground.

"Bring it down!" I ordered. We all opened fire, Rachel with her railgun, myself with my 40mm, and others with their weapons. "Everyone lock onto it, fire missiles on my mark." I paused to allow them time to lock on as well as to do the same myself.

"Three, two, one, mark!"

Five salvoes of rockets screamed towards the unsuspecting dropship, tearing into it's hull, exploding, shattering glass and metal, destroying it's wing and sending it plummeting into the ground.

"Well placed. Looks like we're about done here, guys."

"Attention all pilots. The insurgents have been defeated. Prepare for extraction. Well done." intoned the robotic voice of Spyglass. We had beaten them today, but they always seemed to come back, like weeds. I was certain we would see them again very soon.

But for now, I wanted to focus on three things: Rachel, Rebecca, and replacements for my lost squad members.

 


End file.
